


Panic

by alstroemerian



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Caring Thomas Jefferson, Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Frustration, Gen, Hair-pulling, Panic Attacks, Stress, ventfic kinda, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alstroemerian/pseuds/alstroemerian
Summary: Alex has a panic attack. Jefferson is (surprisingly?) there to comfort him.





	Panic

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello. Just working through my anxiety in a healthy and productive way. Nothing to see here.

It’s so. Fucking. Hot. In this goddamn office and Alex is buzzing, his blood is boiling, and he is burning, even his chronically cold hands are warm, and he can’t seem to calm down. It feels like someone threw him into a furnace and locked the door, or maybe he’s in hell. Yeah, this is his eternal punishment, burn to death in front of all your coworkers in your 4x4 foot cubicle and try to ignore the looks of concern from Jefferson for all of eternity. Yeah. Fucking great. Alexander tries to breathe, take a deep breath, but if feels like his lungs are waterlogged and fuck, now he’s panicking.

He hears Jefferson before he sees him. The roll of his chair across carpet as he slides back from his desk, the thump of his feet across the short distance that separates Alex’s desk from his own, the crack of his knees as he squats next to Alex’s chair.

“Alexander, are you okay?” Well that’s a new one. For all the years he and Jefferson have worked in this office together, the only names he remembers being called are little shit, pain in the ass, obnoxious brat, and Hamilton, which is practically an insult in its own right. 

They know each other on a last name, first enemy basis and changing up the game they play, the dance they do when Alexander is pretty sure he is dying, isn’t making breathing any easier.

But Jefferson doesn’t need to know that.

What Jefferson does need, however is to back off because he’s fine and definitely doesn’t need any help. Alexander tells him as such and Jefferson of course refuses to leave until Alexander tells him what’s wrong and Alex wants to claw his eyes out because he doesn’t know. His chest feels like it’s getting tighter, like someone’s trying to sew him up even though he’s bursting at the seams and he yanks his hair out of the bun that took him twenty minutes to create this morning because it feels like someone is pushing at the spot between his eyes with a sledge hammer.

He throws his head in his hands, pulling at the first strands he can grab as hard as he can until there are white spots glittering in front of his eyes. 

“Alex, no,” Jefferson grabs at Alex’s wrists but doesn’t pull, rubbing at the veins near his wrists. “Let go for me, please.”

Alexander squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry, but he lets go, reaching instead for Jefferson’s hand.

“Alex can you breathe for me? Just take a deep breath okay?” Jefferson’s voice echoes in his ears and he’s starting to feel lightheaded, but he tries to take a breath.

“Good. Can you take another one for me?”

Alex does, keeps taking deep breaths and soon he can start to breathe normally again, tears falling freely at the relief of regaining control of his body.

“Oh, Alexander.”

He doesn’t know why but hearing Jefferson say his name with such concern breaks him, and soon he’s sobbing, burying his face in Jefferson’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey it’s alright, you’re alright. I’ve got you, I promise.” Jefferson pulls Alexander to his chest, holding him as he cries. 

Soon his sobs die down and Alexander is left to try and figure out a way to remove himself from this situation without it being painfully awkward. When he can’t find a good solution, Alexander simply grips tighter onto the front of Jefferson’s shirt.

Alex opens his eyes, and finds himself staring into Jefferson’s, who has a look of worry still clouding his features.

“You okay?” He asks.

Alex nods his head and yawns, suddenly very tired.

“You should probably go home and rest, I’ll tell Washington you’re not feeling well if that’s okay with you?”

Alex just nods again, feeling himself beginning to nod off. All he really wanted right now was to go home and go straight to sleep.

“Okay, well.. see you tomorrow.”

“Goodbye. And Thomas?”

“Yeah?”

“..Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I mostly wrote this to work through my writer's block. its not that bad but its definitely not my best work so.. sorry you had ti read that.


End file.
